Circumstances Dictates
by Tench-Sama
Summary: Circumstances dictates the actions that take place at the Granger household. Hermione is in Bulgaria. Harry is at the Dursleys, and Ron is for some reason at the Grangers.
1. The Trip

Ron lay sprawled on his bed, the product of dozens of bottles of butter beer and thinking of his move for the game of owl chess. Checkmate – five moves. That'd be fourth person he'd beaten in a week. He wrote Harry quite a few letters, but received an owl asking him to stop. His letters were being intercepted by the Dursleys, of course, who read them, lied to Harry about the content, and then chucked them into the fire. This left Ron to owl chess and butter beer.

Hermione? Ron wrote her a letter, a very polite, politically and grammatically correct letter. Pig surprisingly delivered the letter to the correct address, unfortunately Hermione was away, in Bulgaria. Of course her parents responded to Ron, but thought it weird to write a letter of response to a letter they've never read, so they read it. Ron, being totally humiliated, blamed his owl Pig and held an owl treat dangling above his cage for 10 minutes before letting it fall inside. He was angry, but Ron's not the type to be cruel. After that incident Ron chose to wait for Hermione to write to him.

"Ron!" yelled a voice.

"Ron!" yelled another, identical, voice. The owner reached out to Ron, grabbing him by the shoulder and shook him violently as if waking him up would save the world.

Slowly Ron opened an eye, the other was face down on a pillow along with the left half of his face. The sight he saw with his eyes made him want to fall into a coma. There, standing to his side, was none other than the twins, his brothers of torment. The last thing he needed was for them to use him as a guinea pig for their new invention.

"It's," Ron paused to look to his clock. "It's seven in the morning. Could you come back tomorrow, I really don't feel like eating a salamander sandwich." Ron closed his eye and tuned over, pulling the blanket over his head. He could hear Fred whisper to George "Write that down: Salamander Sandwiches."

"Ron, we weren't going to feed you salamander sandwiches, or anything else either. In fact we're going to steal your salamander sandwich idea," said George sitting at the foot of Ron's bed.

"But that's not the reason we came over," Fred said. He took Ron's blanket and chucked it to the other side of the room, leaving Ron exposed. "We thought you'd like to come with us to visit Charlie."

"But Charlie is way over in Romania, and I'm certain that mum didn't say anything about going on a trip," Ron said as he positioned himself into a sitting position.

"Ah, that's the thing – she didn't. We're going to go by ourselves. Fred and I have already gotten our Apparating licenses," George said pulling his I.D. in tandem with Fred. Looking closer to their I.D.'s Ron saw that each had a mischievous looks on their faces and stole glances at each other.

"Well, are up for it?" asked Fred, smiling his best toward his youngest brother. Ron only nodded and then lay back into his bed. Not that he didn't want to see Charlie again, it's just that he wish that he didn't have to travel there.

"We'll be leaving in thirty minutes. That should be enough time for you to get ready. Pack heavy, we're going to stay there until two weeks before the start of school." And with that said the twins left their little brother, who wasn't so little anymore, alone to get ready for the journey.

"Well, I'm ready. Let's get going. But I just remembered something, you can't apparate me with you."

"We already thought of that. We got you a Port key," Fred said handing his youngest brother the porno magazine. "Now don't go peaking in there, it's only for heterosexual males." Ron punched his brother in the shoulder and rolled up the magazine.

"Well, we'll meet you there," said Fred as he waved his brother good-bye. George gave Ron a wink before they both seemingly blinked out existence.

"Well, I guess I could take a little peak," Ron said. He only began to unroll the magazine when he felt his body being pulled forward by his navel. Around him green walls kept flashing past him.

Ron landed surprisingly on his feet. Though where he had landed, he neither knew nor really cared. He walked around the room with it's baby blue walls, and magnificent chandelier. In the center of the room were a long table with bravura table coverings and the cleanest dishes he has ever seen since the Welcoming Feast Hogwarts had to welcome the Durmstrang and Beubaton group. Moving to the next room he saw two people sitting on the couch, the female leaned her head on the male's shoulder as they watched the movie in silence.

Ron calmly walked up to them and asked "Is this Romania?"

"AHH – !" the lady shrieked making Ron drop his things to cover his ears. The man who sat beside her rose up and placed himself in front of her.

"Who are you? What do you want? Take anything, just don't hurt us," called the man to Ron.

"I don't want anything, and I wouldn't dream of hurting you. My name is Ron, and I don't know why I'm here. I'm supposed to be with my brothers in Romania.

The couple exchanged their look of terror to a look of incredulity.

"Ron. Ron Weasley?" asked the man who had his blonde hair combed over to the left. He had thin, round glasses on his face which made him seem much younger than Ron might have thought him to be. The woman  looked similar, with glasses on her face as well, but had brown colored hair and was familiarly bushy.

"Yes," Ron said in a questioning manner. Who were these people, and why did they know his name? Were these friends of Charlie's or of Voldemort? Maybe not the latter.

"Whew. What a relief, we're the Grangers. This is my wife Kathleen Kelly Granger." His wife smiled and shook Ron's hand, which shook by itself. These people of course were Hermione's parent's. Muggles. Of course he didn't hate Muggles, but had had very little contact with them aside from Hermione. "And I'm Joe Fox Granger. Nice to meet you Ron."

Ron took Mr. Granger's hand, who surprisingly had a very strong grip. "It's nice to meet the both of you, but why am I here?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell us."

"I don't know, I guess I'll be heading home." Ron started toward the door, but stopped in mid step. Slowly he turned back toward the two Muggles who were his best friend's parents.

"Do either of you know how to get to my house from here?" asked Ron practically shaking from head to toe.

"I'm sorry we don't but we could help you if you tell us your address," said Mrs. Granger happily. Ron shook his head slowly and offered an apologetic shrug. Ron looked horrified, he didn't know his address, the Muggle postman never delivered mail to his house and there was no need to remember it when visiting relatives because they always had floo powder.

"Well we'll just call your parents," said Mr. Granger picking up the receiver. "What's your number?" Ron gave another shake of his head and another apologetic shrug. The Grangers just smiled and then returned to their movie. "Well you'll just have to stay here for a while. If you're hungry you can have some cake in the fridge."

But Ron didn't want any cake, at least not at the moment. All he wanted was to get back home, away from his best friend's house, and in his own. Is that too much to ask?

Ron looked around frantically. Fred and George couldn't have done this to him, even this was too cruel for them, isn't it? He walked over slowly and touched his fingers to the cool baby blue wall, it was real. He pinched himself on the hand and yelped when he instantly felt the pain run through him. Finally accepting what has happened to him Ron opened the refrigerator and found a large chocolate cake on the middle shelf all alone beside dozens of vegetables and other healthy foods that Ron expected from the Grangers. But that thought crossed Ron's mind again, weren't Hermione's parents dentists?

"Er… Mr. Granger?" called Ron from the refrigerator holding a very large portion of the piece of cake. He was answered with an "Hmmm." "In what profession are you and your wife?"

"We're dentists," called Mrs. Granger who craned her neck to look at Ron, all the while smiling; her teeth in perfectly straight order and brilliantly shining. Just like Hermione's is now. "Why, are your teeth bothering you? We could take a look if you want."

"No, thank you sir. I was just wondering about the cake. Was there some sort of celebration?" Ron asked sitting in front of the Grangers, making sure that he was not obstructing their view.

"We celebrated our wedding anniversary a few days ago," said Mrs. Granger snuggling closer to Mr. Granger. "We thought that a cake would be fine this year."

"Right," said Ron lackadaisically. "Do you er know when um Hermione will be coming back?"

Mr. Granger looked over at his wife with a small smile on his face. "No, I'm afraid that we don't Ron. But you're welcome to stay here till it's time to go back to school, seeing as you're all packed for a stay."

"Er… thanks, but I wouldn't want to intrude or anything…" Ron said glaring at his cake.

"No, you wouldn't be intruding at all.. We'd love to have you here. We can talk about your adventures at school. Hermione has talked a great deal about you –"

"Really?" Ron asked jumping from his position, and nearly spilling his cake, to look at the Grangers.

"And Harry too." Ron pouted his lips and nodded solemnly and turned back to the TV. and his cake.

"Don't worry son, you'll get your chance. Your brothers aren't as cruel as you think," whispered Mrs. Granger.

"Sorry," Ron said craning his neck, meeting eye to eye with Mr. Granger.

"Nothing. Great movie." Mr. Granger smiled at Ron, who turned to the movie for the last time before it finished and he went to bed in the guest room adjacent to Mr. and Mrs. Granger's room which is adjacent to Hermione's. He lay on his bed thinking of what that duck footed, git of a Quidditch jockey was doing to Hermione before sleep engulfed his body and dreamt a boy's dream.


	2. Oh Lordy Trouble in the Garden

EE! EEE! EEE! EEE!

The alarm clock went off in Ron's room.  The light passed through the diaphanous curtains and fell gently across Ron's face. He turned over to his side, facing the clock that had rung for at least a couple of minutes. Staring in a daze at the clock, Ron shut off the alarm absentmindedly as he rose up to a sitting position. He rose up with a yawn, and scratching his stomach as he made his way to the bathroom.

Along the way he passed various pictures of people he didn't know, the Grangers' family, and pushed the thought aside telling himself it was just his father's friends visiting. He came across a very feminine looking door and took a second to look at it. He brought his face closer to the door, his nose just inches from the oak surface.

Hermione Kathleen Kelly Granger's Room

Knock first then wait for permission to enter.

"Good lord," Ron screamed, as he scrambled backward from the foreign door with which he just had a close encounter. What was going on here? Where was his room? Where was his rickety old staircase? Where were his brothers who would have pulled about a dozen pranks on him by now? Where was his mother, shouting about not teasing his sister? Where was Ginny? She's the only sane one in the family, with the exception of maybe Charlie and Bill.

"Ron, don't you think it's a bit early to be going into hysterics?" asked Mrs. Granger as she wrapped her robe around her. "What would you like for breakfast today?" 

Suddenly the memories of last night's disaster reemerged in Ron's mind. Vividly he could see his brothers leading him into this inescapable trap, with no hope of being rescued before both his wish and nightmare come true.

Ron absentmindedly nodded and walked down the stairs forgetting all about his bursting bladder, now his stomach was about to cave in, simply stated, he was hungry.

"I'll eat whatever you're having," Ron said addressing both Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who sat at the table, opposite of Ron.

"Ms. Doubtfire, could you bring us some bacon, eggs, hash browns, two coffees, black, no sugar, and a glass of orange juice."

"Ms. Doubtfire?" said Ron questioningly. "Sounds like a name for an old bag."As soon as he uttered the last syllable Ms. Doubtfire was out before them, with their "order." Her hair was black and was drawn over in a braid over her right shoulder. Though she had amazingly ancient looking glasses, Ms. Doubtfire's curves were in all the right places, her cool blue eyes and nice even, white toothed smile made it even clearer that she was no old bag, but a young beautiful lady.

"Hello there," Mrs. Doubtfire said, winking at Ron as she walked past him. Ron could only stare at the food and then back to Mrs. Doubtfire.

"How did she –"

"Ms. Doubtfire, would you like to explain," Mr. Weasley said smiling at Ron. Ron looked back and forth from Ms. Doubtfire and Mr. Weasley a while before Mrs. Doubtfire spoke.

"I'm a witch," she said simply. It was if everything made sense, which it did, how she was able to make breakfast so quickly.

"Sit down Ms. Doubtfire, we can't have you standing about with us eating," Mrs. Weasley said pulling out a chair for Ms. Doubtfire to sit. Ms. Doubtfire looked as though they were asking her to murder someone. Slowly, as if waiting to hear someone dissent to the idea of having the nanny sit with them, she lowered herself onto the chair. Once sitting she returned to her usual cheery disposition.

With a snap of her fingers Ms. Doubtfire had her breakfast before her, something that reminded Ron of Hogwarts and the food the house elves made.

"So, you go to Hogwarts?" Ms. Doubtfire asked Ron before she took a sip of orange juice. Ron choked on his bacon, surprised that she would speak to him.

"Erm yes, I do," Ron chocked out, still trying to rid the cough brought on by the bacon. He looked down and played with his eggs, mixing them with his hash browns as Ms. Doubtfire watched him a little too eagerly, but only just enough as to not elicit a comment from the Grangers.

"Erm, er… you went there," asked Ron making eye contact, for a split second, before he gazed around the room with his face flushed from Ms. Doubtfire's continuing gaze.

"Yes, class of '75. Head Girl," said Ms. Doubtfire. Ron looked dubious. If she was Head Girl, then what was she doing playing maid for Muggles, albeit their Muggle's with a witch daughter. "Oh, this is just a small summer job. I like Muggles, and I don't mind, the Grangers have been very nice over the years."

"Mmhm," said Ron absentmindedly. He had forgotten about his shyness as his hunger grew. "Mr. Granger could you pass the ketchup?" asked Ron as he munched away on his eggs. Ms. Granger smiled at the young man eating breakfast so eagerly as if he were in a contest to finish first.

"Here you go," said Mr. Granger, also smiling,, as he handed Ron, whose mouth was full, the ketchup.

"Ms. Doubtfire, how are you this morning..." said Mrs. Granger. Ron tuned her out. He was contemplating what he was going to say when Hermione arrived who knows when. Sitting there chomping merrily away at his breakfast, no one was the wiser of his thoughts on Hermione's arrival.

In the Backyard

Ron sat on a bench in the backyard, or that was what he supposed it was called, it looked more like a garden was dropped on top of their backyard. There were dozens of beautiful, exotic flowers on either side of the walkway that led to the gazebo. The gazebo stood some five meters tall, and ten meters wide. Its cris-cross patterns mesmerized Ron as he sat on a bench which sat in front of a hole in the shape of a heart which shone in the light from the orange sun set in the background. Romantic, though Ron had no one with whom to share this beautiful place...

"Mind if I sit with you?" Mrs. Doubtfire asked, who startled Ron into falling over the side of the bench.

"Er... why – I mean, if you want to," stuttered Ron as his face flushed. First he falls over, and now he is sitting with this beautiful woman.

"So, Ron," she said showing all of her beautifully straight teeth, "do you have a girlfriend?"

"What – I – I – What?" was all Ron could manage while his face flushed beyond belief. Who was she to ask him whether or not he has a girlfriend? He just met her a couple of hours ago, and now she's asking him about his love life? Anyway, the answer was too embarrassing to utter.

"Do you, or don't you?" she asked more sternly. Her eyes were still beautiful even when they were compelling Ron to divulge his secrets.

"No."

"I see," she said nodding to herself, prying her eyes from Ron..

"What do you think of Hermione?"

"I – well, she's my best friend. She's everything that she ought to be, and more. I wish I could be more like her: smart, daring, beau – brilliant. Yes, I wish I could be smart, daring, and brilliant," Ron replied, flushing as though he were a toilet that would not stop flushing.

"Do you like her, as in "more than a friend" sort of way?"

If Ron was flushing before, he was not transfigured himself into a giant humanoid tomato.

"I – I don't know. First year we got off to kind of a bad start. She performed a spell that I couldn't and I – "

"Which spell?"

"Wingardium Leviosa," sighed Ron as he remembered Hermione upstaging him in Charms class.

"May I continue?"

"Yes, sorry."

"Then I said that she was horrible and that was why she didn't have any friends. I then saved her from a troll when she locked herself in the bathroom, crying her eyes out."

"She said that you locked her in the bathroom, and that Harry helped you."

"You know this already, and you were letting me go on about this?"

"Well, I thought you'd jump to whether you liked her or not. Truth is I know about all of your adventures, except for your fourth year. Before she left for Bulgaria (Ron's stomach lurched at the name of the country) she was very quiet about the dealings at Hogwarts, and only offered that You-Know-Who is rising back into power. I came to see if I could get the info from you."

"I see."

"Well, Hogwarts was holding a Yule ball. When Harry and I were turned down, we turned to my sister and Hermione to escort us to the ball. She said that she had a date, but I insisted that she was joking. Harry and I went to the ball, not with each other, but with dates," he added quickly seeing a smile play across Ms. Doubtfire's face. "Anyway, I ignored my date and had a row with Hermione about her date, Vicky Krum –"

"Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker?" Ms. Doubtfire said, very flustered.

"Yes, the Bulgarian Seeker," Ron said in an annoyed, mocking tone.

"Well, we got into a spat about him, and she went stomping away while I sat there with my date flirting with others At the common room we had another spat, this time she said that I should have asked her first instead of a last resort. Of course she missed the whole reason I was angry, she was fraternizing with the enemy. The tri-wizard tournament was held that year, and Harry and Krum were two of the contestants."

"So, do you, or don't you?"

"I – I don't know. I'll tell you this though, she'll always be my friend."

"Aww," moaned Ms. Doubtfire enveloping Ron in her arms. "That's so cute."

Ron sighed to himself, asking "What did I dig myself into?"


	3. Holiday in Bulgaria

Hermione lay on her stomach in the humongous room that was the guest room in Krum's castle like home. She had been there for the most part of the first month of summer vacation. She had left her home half heartedly. She had spent most of the year at school, and spent her Christmas at Hogwarts, just as she had done in previous years, but now Hermione missed her parents a great deal.  
  
Of course Harry was on her mind, how wouldn't he be? He had just witnessed a friend get murdered, Voldemort come into power right in front of him, and he still has to live with the Dursley's. From her "little" area she had sent Harry a couple of letters, but was met with the same security measures that Ron had encountered before. Though this time she was sent a letter from who she assumed was Harry's cousin, saying that he, "Harry", was totally pissed off with Hermione. Being the genius that she is, she ignored it and just stopped sending letters.  
  
Ron? Hermione received no letter from Ron, she had received one from Harry, telling her to not send another letter, but at least he sent one. She had convinced herself not to send him a letter, not until he sent her one first. Though in her subconscious she knew that he was waiting for her to send him a letter before he would even think of picking up his own quill.  
  
An owl glided through the window of Hermione's room. The owl was gray and young looking, not an owl that she recognized. It hooted to a stop in mid air, right in front of Hermione with its right foot sticking out to show the letter to her. Deftly, Hermione took the letter and stayed to watch the owl leave before she sat down on her bed to read the letter.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
How are you doing? We're fine, we're here at Charlie's for the rest of summer vacation. What are you up to? Well, I just wanted to say that Ron is at your house. Anyway have a nice summer Hermione.  
  
Your superior, Fred Weasley.  
  
To say that Hermione was shocked would be an understatement. Most of all she was embarrassed beyond belief of what Ron might be doing in her home. Her parents were very trusting, not that she didn't trust Ron, but the temptation he must feel of seeing his muggle friend's room must be overwhelming. Not that she had anything to hide in her room, she took all of her clothes (the ones that fit her), and hid her most personal belongings in a fireproof safe, which Ron would not magic open since it's against the law. But just the thought of Ron in her room made her - made her - well she didn't know how she felt, but it would be best if he didn't enter her room.  
  
"Miss Granger dinner is ready," called her hand maiden from the door. Since the inception of her stay in Krum's home she was given a handmaiden for the duration of her stay. Since day one Hermione treated her handmaiden, Kelly, with the utmost respect and friendship. In turn Kelly treated her the same way confiding in Hermione that "I really was intent on hating you, but I just can't seem to do so. It's all your fault."  
  
"I'll be along in a minute Kelly," answered Hermione suspiciously quickly. She stuffed the letter into her jean jacket. She had on her jean jacket over her yellow Hurley tee-shirt, faded jeans and her blue and yellow Osiris shoes.  
  
Hermione walked over to the door, sparing another look in the direction from which the letter came. Ron was at her house and she was in Bulgaria. Nothing she could do but enjoy her stay here and return home to deal with Ron later.  
  
"Herm-own-ninny," asked Krum, "how is your dinner?" Krum looked across the table, the very long table, to Hermione who sat alone, excluding the butlers/waiters, and maids/waitresses. Krum, across the table, was surrounded by a similar looking group, though looked a little more surly than Hermione's side. Maybe it was because Hermione didn't down her drink in one gulp, and kept spilling things on herself, making them get her a new drink and clean her up at the same time. Whatever it was Krum didn't notice.  
  
"It's fine Viktor," Hermione half-yelled across the table. Hermione surmised that this table was meant for much more than just two diners, it was probably meant to sit Krum's father's colleagues and benefactors, and maybe even the Bulgarian Quidditch team too.  
  
"Alfred," whispered Krum to his waiter friend, "go over there and make sure everything is okay. I vant everything to be perfect." Alfred only nodded in compliance before he left on his journey across the never ending table.  
  
"Miss Granger," asked Alfred, in amazingly excellent English, "is there anything you want? All you need is ask? Anything at all." Alfred leaned over in an non-menacing way, but it left Hermione feeling awkward in such scrutiny.  
  
"No... Mr....," Hermione said trailing off for Alfred to finish.  
  
"Just Alfred Miss. Alfred," he said smiling. In a whisper he added "Master Krum is very fond of you. I've never seen him ask me to speak to any of his lady friends before. He is nervous that you are not enjoying yourself, if you were to ask for something he would be most pleased. Say a goblet of milk and cookies or something else if you wish."  
  
Hermione was in shock that Krum had his - his butler say those words to her instead of himself, but none the less was very flattered and her face managed to flush slightly at the compliment. Hermione sat muttering to herself about "how very quickly everything is happening" and how she "doesn't know how she feels about him" before Alfred cleared his throat cryptically.  
  
"Oh, yes," Hermione said as she snapped out of her little trance, "milk and cookies will be fine." Though how he thought she could eat lobster with a side of milk and cookies was preposterous, but she didn't speak otherwise.  
  
Alfred quickly ran to the kitchen, giving Krum a wink as he walked past him. Krum busied himself with opening his lobster. Normally he would have asked one of his servants to open it for him, but now, in front of Hermione, he wanted to show her that he was capable of doing anything, even something trivial as opening his lobster. Hermione watched him with somewhat interest; for someone who is very fond of her, he did very little to acknowledge her presence and make her feel as though she were welcome.  
  
Almost as quickly as he ran into the kitchen, so he did on the way out. In his up stretched arm held a tray which had upon it a bag of chocolate chip cookies and a tall clear goblet of milk. His steady stride ensured that the tray would not fall, but that was not what fate had in mind.  
  
"AHH - !" cried Alfred, he went tumbling head first into Hermione with the goblet of milk spilling on her clothes, and the cookies getting in her hair. Though thoroughly drenched in milk, Hermione stayed calm and gave her hand out to help the fallen butler up onto his feet.  
  
"YOU'RE FIRED!" heard Hermione from across the room. It seems that Krum was very displeased with Alfred over his recent bout of clumsiness. Krum came running from across the room toward Hermione and Alfred. With Krum's arms reached out in that manner Hermione immediately thought he came over to inspect her for injuries, but instead picked up Alfred and tossed him out of the manor.  
  
"You may get your things tomorrow morning, that is if I don't decide to toss them into this evening's fire!"  
  
Hermione sat in her chair leaning over to get a last glimpse of Alfred, whose eyes were wide open in shock that he had tripped. He had never tripped before, even when he was just starting out. Slowly the door was closed on the once faithful butler, now a was-faithful unemployed person who shall forever be known as the perfect butler that lost his footing.  
  
"You didn't have to fire him," Hermione said in a whisper. "I'm fine, just a little wet."  
  
"The reason I wanted everything perfect for tonight was because I am dumping you, Hermione. I am sorry," said Krum sincerely looking remorseful.  
  
There Hermione sat, her eyes growing damp, her mouth growing dry, and her heart stopped and dropped into her stomach, being eaten away by the acids.  
  
Her first major relationship, and her first major rejection; fate had dealt Hermione a bad hand and with that hand all ready played, will she go for broke with Krum, or take the long shot, hot shot, that she left back home, her home? 


End file.
